


One Thousand Books

by eawen_penallion



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Rivendell, The Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring - Freeform, Third Age, clueless, friendship becomes something more, love in the library, old elves, younger elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eawen_penallion/pseuds/eawen_penallion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was inspired by an episode of the SF TV series called 'Babylon5', which features two very minor characters and follows them around the station during a tense conflict. The major characters are featured as incidents or 'meetings' in their daily work. I have transferred it to Rivendell, at the time of 'Many Meetings' and 'The Council of Elrond' (FOTR), and my elves have made it slashy. </p><p> </p><p>BTW, The B5 episode is 'A View from the Gallery', series 5, and the characters were Mack and Bo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"One thousand books! One thousand! And all to be dusted, catalogued and sent to the appropriate libraries! Ai, what did I do to deserve this?"

Melpomaen shook his head, regarding Erestor's secretary with a wry expression on his face.

"You mean, what did *we* do."

The tone was accusatory, and Saelbeth lifted his hands in an expression of helplessness.

"Well, I truly do not know why, save that he has been in a bad humour for over nine days now."

"Ah."

Melpomaen nodded, bending down to retrieve the first book, flicking through the pages to release the dust. Saelbeth stared at him.

" 'Ah.' What does 'Ah' mean?"

"It means 'Ah, I see,'" came the response. A flick of the wrist and the book was dust-free. The dark-haired elf lifted it up to look at its title. "The healing rooms for this one, I think," he said, placing the book separately on the floor. Saelbeth picked up a duster and selected his own book.

" 'Ah, I see' what? What do you see?"

" Erestor."

" Erestor?"

"And Glorfindel."

Saelbeth narrowed his eyes. " Glorfindel?"

Melpomaen nodded, setting the next book on the floor to start another pile. "Yes. Erestor and Glorfindel."

Realisation dawned in Saelbeth's eyes as he perused the spine of a new volume. " 'The Dirges of the Second Age'. Where on Arda does *that* go?"

Melpomaen reached out a hand for it and placed it on one of the now many piles of books scattered across the wood floor.

"He has been gone for nearly eleven days, you know."

"Never! Has he really been gone for that long?"

"Yes, it seems that *they* are out there." There was silence for a moment.

"Oh." Another moment. " 'They?'"

"Them."

"Ah, I see." 

Melpomaen snorted, knowing full well that Saelbeth didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"The Black Riders, dimwit!"

Saelbeth blushed and an affronted look crossed his face. "I *knew* who you meant!"

A sceptical expression now appeared on the librarian's countenance. Saelbeth protested.

"I did! Anyway," He leaned closer to his friend as if to impart a secret, "did you see who arrived last night?"

Melpomaen leered conspiratorially. "Yes! Oh indeed, something *big* is happening," he whispered in return, but then straightened, and reverted to his normal voice. "But it doesn't concern *us*." 

Saelbeth caught his meaning. "Oh no, indeed. No, it is not *our* job to worry at all." He leant down to pick up another book, his dusting cursory; then he tossed it onto a pile.

"No, we are only the little people."

Saelbeth nodded sagely. "But vital."

"Ai, vital!"

"Never seen in the momentous histories." Tome placed on pile.

"No, indeed."

"But there, nonetheless. Important in our own way."

The librarian indicated his agreement, throwing a smile in his friend's direction. "Very important."

At that moment the sound of voices floated through the open door to Erestor's study. The study had been empty but a short time before. The words were soft but clear.

"... the sight was magnificent! As white horses, rolling down the ravine, sweeping away all before their path!"

"Aye, I think that touch was Mithrandir's from what Elrond said."

In the storeroom, Melpomaen nodded, for that was to whom he had been referring earlier. The deep voice started again.

"Oh, he's here at last, is he? The periain were truly worried."

"Yes, he arrived late yesterday. Bad time of it, from what I heard."

"I thought he went to see Curunir?"

"That is what went wrong. Elrond will tell you later. He's with Bilbo's nephew at the moment."

"Aye, Estel was very worried for him. Took a Morgul blade, poor little thing! I damn near dropped it when Estel showed me the hilt. Ugh!"

The two friends heard the clink of glasses. ' Miruvor,' Saelbeth mouthed, but Melpomaen waved him to silence as Glorfindel spoke again.

" Mmm. My thanks, meleth."

"My pleasure."

"I need something to warm me." The voice had become seductive, something echoed now in Erestor's tones.

"Really? Are you cold?"

"Chilled with the danger. Cold work, fighting Úlairi."

"Really? Elves don't normally feel cold..."

A deep laugh. "*I* do. I need something to warm me..."

"To warm you, or your bed?" Erestor was purring now, the growl rumbling in his throat. Glorfindel's laugh was very welcoming in its tone.

"Both, meleth-nín. Care to volunteer?"

"Why not."

There was a rustling noise, as if robes were being ruffled, then an exclamation.

"Not here!" Another deep laugh, then a click as the outer door opened.

"After you, my dearest counsellor."

"With pleasure, my loving seneschal."

The two elves in the storeroom looked at one another, seemingly reluctant to break the silence. Finally Saelbeth cleared his throat.

"'A History of the Flora of the Greenwood, and its Properties.' Now, where does that belong?"

Melpomaen nodded to a pile in a corner.

"Those are the ones for the Healing Halls," he said calmly. Saelbeth placed the book carefully on the precarious tower, then sat back in satisfaction.

"Thank you, my dearest librarian."

Melpomaen's eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "My pleasure, my *friendly* secretary."

And with that, the two elves bent over their work once more.

****

" Ow, my back is still aching!" Melpomaen moaned, rubbing the offending arch of his spine. "Four days! Four days and we've barely started!" 

A glass of deep red wine was handed to him, its depths reflecting the light of the roaring flames. The Hall of Fire was aptly named. Melpomaen winced at the heat ensuing from the immense fireplace.

"Who threw on that last log? Does he want us to melt?"

Saelbeth eased himself onto the bench beside his workmate, being careful not to spill a drop from his own glass. He took a sip before answering.

"Don't know, don't care. I just don't want to see another book again in my life."

"I have to."

"Poor you."

"So do you."

A grimace. "Don't remind me."

They sat quietly for a moment, letting the chatter of the room wash around them before Saelbeth spoke again.

"Good feast, wasn't it?"

" Mmm. Liked the roast pork."

"Really? I though it was a bit fatty. Did you try that new dish? The one made from mushrooms?"

Melpomaen nodded. "The ones with garlic? Yeah, nice."

"No, no. The new one. The pressed mushrooms."

"Life is too short to press a mushroom. Which one do you mean?"

"It is the one that is supposed to look and taste like meat."

A snort. "Like meat? Why do they want to make something that tastes like meat? We always have meat available anyway."

"No, no - this is supposed to be healthier. Better for you. Helps you live longer."

Melpomaen raised and eyebrow. Saelbeth blushed when he realised what he had said.

"It's for the humans too!" he said defensively. "Anyway, it is supposed to taste like meat."

"What does it taste like?"

Saelbeth smirked. "Chicken."

"Really?"

Saelbeth laughed. "It's a joke! Whenever you are asked what something new tastes like, you say 'Chicken'."

A pause. "Why?" 

The secretary sighed in frustration. "You just *do*! It's a joke - oh, never mind, forget it. Hey, it looks like he finished!"

Melpomaen looked around the room, trying to see what the secretary was talking about.

"Who?"

Saelbeth pointed across the floor. "Bilbo." They heard applause, and conversation floated across to them.

"Now we had better have it again." 

The little hobbit got up and bowed. "I am flattered, Lindir. But it would be too tiring to repeat it all."

Melpomaen nudged Saelbeth. "Little sycophant!"

Saelbeth looked towards the gathered elves. "Who, Bilbo?"

" Lindir!" He took another sip of wine. "Was it any good, the poem?"

The secretary shrugged, wincing as his shoulders complained. "How should I know? I was talking to you."

"I see Estel got involved again. Helping Bilbo, I mean. Nice little fellow."

"Who, Estel?"

"No, Bilbo!" Melpomaen nodded his head to indicate the hobbit and the ranger. "Cleans up nicely, doesn't he?"

"Who, Bilbo?"

Melpomaen slapped his palm to his forehead. He sometimes wondered just how many times Saelbeth had been dropped on his head as an elfling.

"No," he said patiently. " Estel."

Saelbeth shrugged. "I suppose so. He needs to do it more often, he usually stinks after he's been on his travels. Hey, how long was that poem?"

"What poem?"

"Bilbo's."

It was Melpomaen's turn to shrug. "I don't know. Six, maybe seven stanzas." Saelbeth moaned, leaning back against the wall, head flung back in despair. " 'Beth, what's wrong?"

" Argh, he'll want me to write it up. For the archives, you know."

"Oh." Melpomaen paused. "Will it take long?"

Saelbeth nodded.

"Oh." The librarian nudged his friend. "I'll help, if you want."

Saelbeth turned to look at his friend, a tiny hint of hope in his eye. "Thanks. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to help me?"

Melpomaen shrugged. It was expression he had overused that evening, but it seemed appropriate and anyway, it eased the ache in his shoulders.

"You're my friend."

"Oh." The dark-haired librarian did not catch the hint of disappointment. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Melpomaen stretched his arms and back, arching in an almost seductive manner. Saelbeth looked away, squashing unbidden thoughts. This was Melpomaen, remember? One final shake, and Melpomaen yawned.

"Ai, I think a hot bath, then bed. Are you coming?"

Saelbeth blinked. Bed? "What?"

"To the baths. You really should, otherwise that backache won't go away."

"With you?"

"See anybody else asking you?" Saelbeth shook his head. "Come on, then."

They were leaving the Hall when the Lord of Imladris called them over.

" Melpomaen!"

Saelbeth looked at his friend, who just shook his head. He had no idea what the elf-lord wanted either. They made their way across to where Elrond was sitting with his sons.

" Melpomaen," the elf-lord began. "I want to thank you for that book you found. It was very useful and indeed, instrumental in my treating our young hobbit."

Saelbeth stared at the librarian, but Melpomaen just bowed.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond, but it was Saelbeth who truly discovered the book."

Elrond nodded. "My thanks to you also then, Saelbeth."

Book? What book? Melpomaen tugged at his sleeve. Realising what he was indicating, Saelbeth sketched a quick bow and uttered a few non-words before Melpomaen steered him away.

"What book?" he asked, puzzled.

"The one that you found the other day."

"The one that I found?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He thought for a moment. They had barely catalogued one hundred and fifty books, but already their titles were but blurs. Melpomaen could see the confusion on Saelbeth's face and relented.

"The one on Mirkwood plants."

Enlightenment. "Oh, *that* one!"

"Yes."

A moment's thought. "Why did you give credit to me, then? I only dusted it. It must have been you who spotted its use."

Melpomaen shrugged.

"We are 'buddies''."

"We're what?"

"It is a word that I read in a human book. It means 'friends who help each other.'"

"Oh." Saelbeth sighed wistfully. "Friends."

"Aye, 'pals'."

" 'Pals'?"

"Another human word. Hey, look over there."

They were traversing the narrow paths to the bathing house, their way illuminated by burning torches as well as the light of the full moon. Saelbeth looked over to where Melpomaen had indicated. On a narrow stone bridge, framed by Ithil's disk, stood Estel and Arwen, Elrond's daughter. Saelbeth smiled at the beautiful picture they presented.

"He's not going to like that."

Saelbeth turned. "Who?"

"Elrond. He's not going to like that."

"Oh. No, I suppose he isn't."

"Can't blame him. I mean, he gives a human child a home, feeds him, educates him - and what does he do? Goes chasing after a female one hundred times his age. His only daughter, too. No, it's not going to happen."

"What isn't?"

"Those two." Melpomaen gestured to the two figures on the bridge. The pair had not noticed them, and now Arwen seemed to be unfastening something from around her neck. "What is she doing?" he whispered. Saelbeth looked closely.

"It's her necklace. She's giving it to him. How romantic."

"How stupid."

Saelbeth looked at Melpomaen, somewhat shocked at the cynical sentiment.

"Why stupid? It seems romantic to me."

Melpomaen shook his head. "He is human. He'll die one day."

"He is also Isildur's heir."

"Well, that's not exactly a recommendation, is it? *He* had the chance to destroy the One Ring but no, he thought he'd keep it as a nice bit of jewellery. Idiot human."

Saelbeth frowned. "Have you got something against humans? Or is it just Isildur and Estel?"

Melpomaen thought for a moment. "No, not really. I think that it is just that their actions make me so angry. They have no respect for their lives, or the lives of others. So many elves died in the Last Alliance, so many of our kin who should have been immortal; who should have lived until the end of Arda. I resent that Isildur threw away their sacrifice, by *not* throwing the Ring into the molten heart of Orodruin."

In his tirade Melpomaen did not notice the bleakness come across Saelbeth's face, an indication of deeper emotion, quickly suppressed. The secretary cleared his throat as he tried to clear his thoughts.

" Estel may carry Isildur's blood in his veins, but he is not Isildur. Mayhap he can reclaim honour for his lineage by his deeds?"

"And claim Arwen? Maybe."

Melpomaen looked across the stream to the two lovers on the bridge. They had melded into a kiss. Saelbeth thought the sight most beautiful.

"Foolish hopes," said Melpomaen. "Come on, Saelbeth, let's leave them to their foolish hopes and dreams." The librarian turned to his friend when Saelbeth did not move. "Coming, 'buddy'?"

"I don't know," Saelbeth said in a low voice. "I don't really feel like a bath now."

The librarian snorted. "You're hooked on this romance, aren't you? Ah well, enjoy it. Come on, the bath will truly ease your aches. Anyway, we have to set up our bet. You *are* going to attend the council meeting, aren't you?"

Saelbeth nodded. "Yes, I am taking notes for Erestor."

Melpomaen grabbed his hand and started to pull him along the path. "Me too, as a junior advisor. So, what will it be? I say, five eyebrows and two ' Dooooms'! What say you?"

Saelbeth laughed. Melpomaen could always lighten his heart, even as he had the power to lower it.

"Oh, eight eyebrows and three ' Dooooms' is my wager!"

And so the two friends continued on their way, but not before Saelbeth had cast one last lingering look at the now-empty bridge, and the beauty of the full moon beyond.

****

Melpomaen sat on the floor in an alcove of the library, surrounded by piles of books. Piles and piles of books. For one who professed to love books and had chosen his career accordingly, he could have cheerfully kindled a fire amongst them. And the worst thing was, he was alone. Well, wasn't *precisely* alone for beyond the alcove, in the main portion of the library, Elrond's sons plotted their travels.

"I feel that our normal route may be closed to us, gwanneth," said Elladan. Though he spoke in hushed tones, to elven ears his speech was clear and since the brethren knew that he was there, Melpomaen did not feel as if he intruded on their conversation.

"So which way shall we go? Not under, for that way is closed to us. I fear its passages are lost forever."

"In that we think alike. But I propose - here." A crackle of parchment indicated that a document had been consulted.

"Aye, I agree but - at this time of year?"

"Not with a patrol or the rangers would I venture there, but we are of hardy stock, dear brother? Think you not that *we* could traverse it?"

"I don't doubt it - not with you at my side, gwaniaur."

At that moment the library door opened and Melpomaen heard the princes offer a greeting to the newcomer.

"Well met, Saelbeth. How fare you this day?"

"I am well, Lord Elladan. I am seeking Melpomaen."

"Oh, he is in the alcove yonder, buried by books and none too pleased, I think!"

There was an embarrassed tone in the secretary's voice when he spoke.

"Aye, I should have been helping him some hours ago, but I was delayed."

Melpomaen heard his tardy friend's footsteps coming towards the alcove when Elrohir stopped him. 

"We are making a journey to lands that you know well, Saelbeth. Would you like us to carry any greetings for you?"

Melpomaen stretched so that he could see the tall elf's figure framed in the arch of the entrance. He was almost a shadow, but the light from the large windows in the expanse of the main hall caught the white lights in Saelbeth's fair hair. 'Funny,' thought Melpomaen. 'I have never noticed those glints before.' Saelbeth was answering Elrohir, and Melpomaen realised that he had missed the beginning of the response.

" ... no one to whom I can send a message, save those whom you know so well, and to whom I owe so much that a mere message could not convey my words. I know that your trip needs to be swift and will be fraught with danger. I will not burden you with unnecessary letters, my lords."

Elladan's tone was gentle and understanding. "Then we will give such greetings as we know that you would send in less urgent times, old friend."

Saelbeth bowed, and Melpomaen sat back quickly, taking up a book into his hand. He did not want to be seen as an elf with flapping ears, albeit peaked ones. Already he felt hard done by, for his morning had been boring and lonely without the gentle chatter of his friend. His words then were unwittingly sharp-edged when Saelbeth came to sit in front of him.

"You took your time. What happened, did you oversleep?"

Saelbeth cringed a little at the question, but tried not to show his hurt in his voice.

"Nay, I have been with Master Erestor all morning, transcribing the notes from the council. I sent word to you by Lindir. Did he not find you?"

"No."

"Oh." The following silence was frosty and Saelbeth picked up a duster and a book, ready to continue his task.

"Which is the pile for the history of Númenor? For this belongs there."

A silent finger pointed to Saelbeth's left. The secretary placed the book where indicated, then picked up another.

" 'A Journal of Recipes from Southern Eriador'. Would the cooks appreciate that more than the library shelf, do you think?"

Melpomaen's shoulders lifted in what Saelbeth could only assume was a shrug. He could take it no longer, he decided.

"I am sorry that I was late," he said. "I did not know that the transcripts would take so long. Indeed they are not finished, so voluble was the council yesterday. Master Erestor is continuing even now."

"So why are you not with him then?"

Glad to get a response from his friend, Saelbeth said, "He could see that I was distracted, and he told me to take myself off and do something else useful. So I have."

Melpomaen looked up. "You came back to me?"

Saelbeth coloured and bent his head to avoid meeting Melpomaen's searching eyes. "We have barely started. I could not abandon you." He paused, then said quietly, "I could not abandon my 'buddy'."

The dark-haired elf grinned. "Thank you - 'pal'." Saelbeth grinned and looked up in return.

"By the way, I counted in my notes - you won!"

"Won what?"

"The eyebrows - and ' Doooom'!"

Snickering could be heard from beyond the alcove entrance, and both the blond and the dark-haired elf were startled. Melpomaen looked at Saelbeth, then started to laugh. His mirth was so infectious that Saelbeth chuckled too. A voice floated through the opening.

"Aye, Elrohir won our bet, too!" called the lord's eldest son. 

The laughter had broken the icy atmosphere and Melpomaen smiled penitently at his friend.

"I am sorry for my behaviour, meldir. I was a mixture of things that brought me low - these books," he cast his arms wide to indicate the mass of literature about them, "and yesterday's meeting. Ai, the portents accruing from those discussions and decisions make my blood run cold."

Saelbeth leaned across the floor sympathetically, pressing his hand to the librarian's knee. He patted it gently.

"Aye, I think that all who attended came from that council with heavy hearts. Yet, as heavy as our hearts are, heavier still the burden on the little hobbits' shoulders."

"Too true! Mithrandir, plus two hobbits, to attempt the journey to Mordor! ' Tis folly, yet a noble one. I wonder who will go with them."

" Estel, for sure," mused Saelbeth. "And Boromir, for Gondor faces that evil land. As for the others. I believe that Lord Elrond and Mithrandir will long ponder that question."

Melpomaen lifted a quizzical eyebrow, so evocative of that of their lord, and gestured with a motion of the head to the outer room and the elves therein. Saelbeth did not know whether Melpomaen was querying the possibility of the twins joining the fellowship, or the prudence of continuing the topic with the warrior brethren so near. Either way, Saelbeth gave a quick shake of the head to indicate the latter, and he decided to change the topic.

"Well, here is a book that is highly appropriate - an atlas of maps of the region of Gondor."

"Over here," Melpomaen reached out his hand. "I'll keep them to one side, to give to Lord Elrond later." Saelbeth did not move, and Melpomaen looked up questioningly. "What is wrong, meldir?"

Saelbeth looked bleakly at his friend, then shook his head, trying to reassure the dark-haired librarian.

"It was just a sudden sense of - foreboding. This is the beginning of the end for this Age. I feel the power of our race is fading. As I once saw the end of the beginning, so I fear that the Black Gates of Mordor will see another army stand there to face the darkness. I fear - what will happen there."

Melpomaen was alarmed. This was not the light-hearted conversation he expected from his long-time friend. He was used to Saelbeth's almost simplistic outlook, his gentle and naïve nature. He, Melpomaen, was the dark, cynical elf, and this reversal of roles frightened him. He tried to dismiss those fears.

"Ai, mellon-nín, let us not dwell on such dark subjects. Imladris is safe and protected by both its Lord and by Lord Glorfindel and our valiant troops. In any case, whatever the future brings, it will not be our fate to fight in Mordor. An army would not have much use for pen-pushers such as you or I. No, be at peace, Saelbeth."

He looked once more at the atlas in Saelbeth's hand. Rising from his place on the floor, he took the book from the hand of his friend.

"I will take this to Lord Elrond now, I think. The lord may be glad of it, and Mithrandir too, to prepare for the Fellowship's journey. I will not be long."

Saelbeth nodded, his eyes following the graceful movements of the librarian as he exited the library.

The twin lords had not yet left the main library and, after the outer door closed, Elladan came into the alcove. Saelbeth looked up at him.

"He does not know, does he, Saelbeth? You have not told him."

Saelbeth shook his head miserably. "No, my lord. There is no point, for it happened so long ago. It is but ancient history to such a young soul." He raised his head. "I will not trouble him with old war stories. Anyway, he has no interest in my past."

"But you wish he had? I wager that he does not even know your age or origin - or your deeds."

Saelbeth's eyes flashed. "No, my lord, and he will not learn of it. Not from you, and not from me. Do you hear me, my lord?"

Elladan stared back for a few moments, then nodded in acquiescence. He retreated to his brother, leaving Saelbeth alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Melpomaen decided to take a less direct route to Lord Elrond's office, wanting to take in some of the beautiful late autumn sunshine. Thus he was crossing the inner courtyard when he spotted two of the periain talking in the gazebo. He scrutinized them carefully for, apart from Bilbo, he had very little experience with the visitors from the Shire. These two were the younger hobbits, Frodo's cousins. He smiled and was about to quietly walk by when one of the hobbits called out to him.

"Hello there!" It was the younger of the two, the one called Pippin, and he crossed the courtyard to Melpomaen. The librarian bowed, hand over heart.

"Greetings, Master Hobbits. How may I help you?"

"Oh, I am not sure that you can. We were wondering where Strider and Gandalf are. Do you know?"

It took a moment for Melpomaen to realise that they were referring to Estel and Mithrandir.

"I believe that they are conferring with Lord Elrond regarding their journey. They are probably in his study."

Merry shook his head and turned to Pippin. "See, I told you so! I wish that I could be there too," he added wistfully. "I would have liked to have seen those maps, just to see the way that Frodo and Sam must take."

"And us too! You don't think that we are going to let them go without us?" said Pippin sharply. 

Melpomaen admired the spirit of the young hobbit, but he seriously doubted that Lord Elrond would agree to any such thing. "Are you fond of maps?" he asked, curious to know what drove these small creatures. He knew that Bilbo was an avid collector of knowledge but had been led by him to understand that a curious hobbit was a curious thing in the Shire. 

Merry nodded eagerly. "Oh yes - well, no, not particularly. But I *do* like to plan things. When Frodo had to leave the Shire, it was I who organized the house in Buckland, near Crickhollow."

"Aye," interrupted Pippin. It is Merry who organizes me - I would have never have come this far without him."

Melpomaen could see the close friendship between these two cousins and it put him in mind of his own friendship with Saelbeth - though as that thought reverberated in his mind, a second, sudden thought came clearly to him. 'We are much closer.' He shook his head. Now, where did *that* come from?

Returning his attention to the hobbit, Melpomaen made a sudden decision. He brought forth the atlas from under his arm and, moving towards a nearby seat, undid the fastening ribbons and opened it.

"Well, if you wish to view maps, then perhaps these will help you. I was just bringing this book to Lord Elrond, in the hope that it would help in the planning of their - your - journey. See, they are maps of Gondor and its surrounding neighbours."

" Boromir's country!" Pippin exclaimed. Melpomaen laughed, and with his finger started to point out all the major landmarks.

"See, that is Minas Tirith, Minas Anor as it once was. It is the main city of Gondor, and from its white walls one can see the land of Mordor, the dark and evil country of the Dark Lord."

" Sauron."

Melpomaen shook his head. "Speak not aloud the name of the evil one, young Master Merry. For names have power, and that is not a good name. Now, that is Mordor, a bleak country, black and ashen."

"How does one get in there?" Merry asked. Melpomaen moved his finger to the north-eastern border of the country on the map, following the delineated line of the mountains.

"Here are the Black Gates, huge constructions guarded by foul creatures. The plain in front is the Morannon, and nearby is the plain of Dagorlad, where the battle of the Last Alliance took place."

"Where Isildur cut the Ring from Sau- the Dark Lord's hand?"

"Yes. Many fell in that battle, both of Elves and Men. A sad, evil time."

Pippin shuddered. "I don't think that I want to look anymore," he whispered. Melpomaen realised how dark the discussion had become and thus tried to introduce a light tone.

"There are other, happier places to be seen on this map, Pippin. See, here is Gondor's fort, Pelargir, and if you follow the river Anduin, then the eastern coastline, you can see the principality of Dol Amroth. Just north of that is the elven port of Edhellond."

" Gondor looks very big," exclaimed Pippin, pointing across the expanse of paper. "What is that area there?"

"That is Rohan, mellon-nín. The land of the Horse-Lords, allies to Gondor. They are a nomadic people for the most part, but their king holds court in Edoras - here."

The three heads bent forward, the two smaller jostling for the best position in which to view the map. It was the older, calmer hobbit who pointed to an area north of Minas Tirith.

"Is that woodland?"

Melpomaen laughed. "Nay, pen- neth, that is the great forest of Fangorn. It is not a place for young hobbits to visit, for it is said to contain deep magic, a magic of the earth. The very trees are imbued with it and are said to a have a life-force that we do not yet understand."

Pippin shivered, but Merry just nodded eagerly. "It is like the Old Forest at Buckland. The trees there are alive - and dangerous! We know, for Tom Bombadil rescued us from them!"

"Aye, Iarwain Ben- adar is most powerful and ancient. I had heard of his involvement in your journey," agreed the librarian. He looked up at the sky and saw that Anor had begun its descent in the sky. He began to fold the map back together. "I must away, for I had meant to deliver these maps to my lord much earlier. I hope that they were helpful to you."

"I am most likely to forget them, but Merry will remember!" laughed Pippin. 

"Yes indeed, thank you, said Merry. He hesitated. "I am sorry, we forgot to ask your name."

The librarian smiled. "I am Melpomaen." The librarian was startled when the hobbits' faces lit up.

"Oh, you are Saelbeth's friend!"

"Yes. Er, how did you know that?" he asked in puzzlement. He did not like the knowing look that the two hobbits exchanged, nor the hidden mirth in their nonchalant replies.

"Oh, Bilbo told us."

"Yes, we've been - trying to learn more about elves."

"What your long lives are like."

"How you think, and do things."

"And how you - feel. About - people. Love. Romance. Things."

Merry looked sharply at Pippin, as if to say that the young creature had said enough - or too much.

"Just - curiosity!" Merry said, scratching his head innocently. "Education."

"Knowledge, you might say," finished Pippin.

It was enough. It was too much. And Melpomaen could take no more. He made his bow. 

"I must be on my way, Master Hobbits. I am sure that I will see you again soon."

One last smile and Melpomaen continued his errand to his lord's study. In the shelter of a nearby colonnade he turned to take one last look at the periain, and scowled when he saw them laughing and waving at him.

Just what had that gossipy old hobbit said about him - and Saelbeth?

 

****

 

"This is probably the last day of this year that we will be able to do this," commented Melpomaen, looking over the expanse of lawn before them. "The winter is nigh upon us, and only our lord's power is holding back its excesses." 

Many must have shared Melpomaen's sentiments, for the garden was well used that day. The two elves had opened wide the doors from the library onto the terrace overlooking the grounds, and had brought out some of the piles of books to the table set there. They could see from their vantage point that the Lady Arwen had brought out her pencils and paints and was busy sketching and painting her interpretations of the trees in their bright fall colours. The two younger hobbits were wrestling on the grass in sport that reminded Saelbeth of kittens at play, and the other two were walking with Gandalf amongst the many and varied floral displays. The Mirkwood prince sat quietly at the base of a large horse-chestnut tree, reading a book and, from time to time, looking up and smiling gently as he slipped into a contemplative mood. Finally, from beyond a hedge, they could hear much talk and occasional clangs of steel as Gimli and Boromir exchanged views and demonstrated the virtues of axe and sword. 

Melpomaen looked at the volumes that he and Saelbeth had brought out into the garden. They had worked hard in this past month, in between their other duties, and had now made major inroads into the seemingly unending procession of books.

"Do you ever wonder where Erestor got these books from in the first place?" he pondered, lifting one and turning it over in his hands. "Some are mind-bogglingly dull. Look at this one - 'Accounts and Payments of the Mayoralty of Dale'. Who in their right mind would keep such a book?"

Saelbeth smiled. "Whoever said that Erestor was in his right mind? You know how obsessive he is about his books."

"Well, you should know - you work with him most of the time. I don't know how you have the patience. His finicky ways would drive me crazy."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I am very much his protégé. I am very much like him."

Melpomaen's head shot up. "God's, no! In no way are you like him! I couldn't be Erestor's secretary, never mind his best friend. *You* are nothing like him, mellon-nín, for you I truly like. You are very different."

"How?"

"Well, you just are!" Melpomaen was flustered by the question, because he had never really thought about the reason he and the blond elf were friends. "Well, you are very thoughtful and generous, for you brought us a fine picnic. More importantly, you laugh at my jokes, *and* you remember to bring the wine on a boring job!" Flipping back the cover from a wicker basket, he pulled out a bottle of red wine and brandished it in the air. Saelbeth laughed.

" Elbereth, what a testimonial - eat, drink and be merry, for Saelbeth provides!"

Melpomaen laughed again, this time drawing out two glasses from the basket. Hearing another clink, he looked into its depths.

"There are many more glasses in here, 'Beth. Who are they for?"

Saelbeth gestured to their fellows who were enjoying the autumn sunshine.

"I guessed that we would not be alone, therefore I brought plenty for all. There should be a second bottle of wine also."

The librarian stared at the fair-haired secretary, his look softening as did his voice. "Ai, Saelbeth, you are a very special elf."

He was surprised at how quickly Saelbeth coloured, the blush swiftly covering his face. Saelbeth bent to pick up another book.

"Another on flora." He flicked through it. "Some very nice illustrations, too." He placed it on a nearby pile. Glancing up, he saw Melpomaen still staring at him.

"What?"

"What 'what'?"

"I mean - why are you staring at me?"

Melpomaen started, for he had not realised he had been doing such a thing. He glanced furtively at the romping hobbits, still tussling in the grass. He was glad that they hadn't seen his - distraction. Goodness knows what mischief they would have woven about him. He turned back to Saelbeth.

"Nothing," he said. "I was only thinking."

"Well stop thinking, and start pouring. I'm thirsty!"

Chuckling, Melpomaen did just that. He also brought a glass to Arwen, even as Saelbeth called the two young hobbits over.

"My lady," he said with a little bow and a large grin. Arwen smiled back, though there was wistfulness in that gentle gesture.

"Thank you, Melpomaen."

Melpomaen leant a little lower and said softly, "He will return safely, my lady. Your brothers are with him, and they love him."

Arwen's eyes widened at this unusual demonstration of compassion from this normally cynical Noldo.

"Thank you, Melpomaen. Your words are very welcome."

Melpomaen shrugged his shoulders, not quite regretting his words but feeling somehow that he had relinquished some power; that his outer shell had crumbled slightly. "Blame Saelbeth, Lady Arwen. I think he is having a bad influence on me!"

Arwen looked across at the blond elf, whose eyes were following Melpomaen's movements. She smiled slyly. 

"About time, too!"

Melpomaen was bewildered. Did they think that he and Saelbeth were joined at the hip or something? That Saelbeth had that much influence over his actions? He was gradually becoming aware of a shift in others' perception of his relationship - no, his *friendship* -with Erestor's secretary, but for the life of him he couldn't see why. As he walked back to the little 'library' and the hobbits gathered round the elf, Melpomaen was determined to place this *friendship* back on its old footing - in everyone's eyes. He grinned wickedly as he saw Saelbeth watching him, and winked in warning.

"Hey, Saelbeth - how many hobbits does it take to change a candle in a wall sconce?"

Saelbeth knew his role in this merriment and to the hobbits' surprise he replied, "I don't know, Melpomaen. How many?"

"Three. One standing on the second's shoulders to reach the sconce, and Master Bilbo to 'record this event for posterity'!"

The joke was so mild a play on the stature of the hobbits, and Melpomaen's countenance so jolly, that the periain took no offence but joined in the ensuing laughter. Then did a joke fest ensue, with the hobbits giving as good as they got, and laughter resounding through the gardens. Legolas rose from his solitary contemplation and came to join Arwen, partaking of the little feast and smiling gently at the happy group.

Soon the food was finished and Merry and Pippin volunteered to remove the remnants to the kitchen. The librarian and the secretary resumed their task, lifting the books and dusting them, then setting them on the appropriate piles.

"Over four hundred books to do!" moaned the dark elf. Saelbeth smiled reassuringly at his friend.

"More than half done, and *much* less than five hundred to do!" he replied.

"You are an incorrigible optimist!"

"And you a devout pessimist!"

"Ai, you view a glass as half full."

"And you as half empty."

"So who is right in their view of the world? You or I?"

Saelbeth shook his head. "Both and neither. The reality is, the work has to be done. Taken with a light heart and willing mind, it is accomplished all the sooner."

"It hate it when you are right - prissy elf!" Melpomaen grinned. He suddenly looked around at the books sorted onto the piles. "Oh, I just had a thought - where is that book on flora that you found earlier?"

"Right here. Why"

"Well, Master Samwise is a gardener, is he not? I see him admiring the flowerbeds here. Maybe he would like to look at it?"

Saelbeth nodded. He looked about the garden, but only Arwen and Legolas were now in his sight, seated across the lawn behind Melpomaen. "Perhaps he will return. I will put it to the side."

They continued with the dusting, lightly chatting and commenting on the books. At one, Melpomaen snorted loudly.

"Well, here is a misnomer! 'Noble Acts and Brave Deeds of the Sindar in the First and Second Ages of Middle Earth'! Ai, what a pompous title for such an irrelevant tome. And it is quite sizable too! What in Arda did they find to put in it, for surely such acts must number very low, considering the nature of our Sindar kin!" He did not notice Saelbeth's discomfort, for he continued in his sarcastic commentary, enjoying the flow of his own wit. 

"Save for the fact that the Lord Elwë got sidetracked and they missed the boats to Valinor, what else of worth have the wood elves done; communing with their beloved trees, and communicating with the rabbits and field mice! Far better to have used the paper to record the noted acts of the Noldor, with our fine and varied history. What say you, meldir?"

Saelbeth made a non-committed sound, and bent his head over his books again. After a few minutes he stood up, looking strangely awkward in his motions. 

"I think that I will go and find Master Samwise and give him this book. It would be best that he uses it sooner rather than later, for the fine days and the beautiful flowers will not last for much longer." 

His tone was flat, and he did not look at Melpomaen as he turned to make his way back to the house. The librarian stared after him in surprise at such an abrupt leave-taking. The surprise was compounded when the Mirkwood prince suddenly appeared from behind him, ignoring Melpomaen. He strode purposefully after the retreating figure of Saelbeth. Melpomaen yelped as a fist rapped sharply on his head.

" Ow, what was that for?" he whined. Arwen moved to stand in front of him, hands on hips and eyes ablaze.

"Well firstly in chastisement for the *huge* insult you just gave to Legolas and his kin, then in the hope that I might knock some sense into you! Really, Melpomaen, for someone who is supposedly learned in the ways of books and lore, you are incredibly dense -and an amazing contradiction. First you showed great generosity of spirit to me, and in remembering that book for Sam. *Then* you deride the heritage of your best friend!"

" Saelbeth...?"

Arwen nodded angrily, pointing with her hand to the figures of Saelbeth and Legolas, now in close talk near to the entrance to the house.

"Aye, Saelbeth! Are you blind as well as stupid? Who do you think Saelbeth most resembles? Can you not see the kinship of race, as he stands nigh a Sindarin prince?"

It was as if blinders had been removed, and Melpomaen's jaw dropped as he saw the true features of his friend. Lithe and supple of body and frame, Saelbeth's pale gold hair fell in long waves down his straight back. The soft green shades of his robes, like all the earth colours he favoured, suited his complexion admirably, and only now did the dark elf realise that Legolas wore the same shades. Melpomaen suddenly remembered Saelbeth's clear green eyes, so startling on first encounter, and admired by the librarian - in a detached fashion, of course. His heart fell when he realised his huge mistake.

"But he never said - I didn't know... I thought he was a fair Noldo!"

Arwen snorted derisively. "Just how old are you, Melpomaen? One thousand? Two thousand?"

"Over seventeen hundred," he admitted in embarrassment.

"And you came from Edhellond. Well, you may be surprised to learn that Saelbeth arrived in Imladris when my parents married, as part of my mother's retinue. He came at the request of my grandfather - who as your failing memory might *just* remember, is a Sindarin prince too! And Saelbeth's family have been loyal to Celeborn since my grandfather resided in Doriath in the First Age."

Melpomaen gulped. "Then Saelbeth is over three thousand years old...?"

"Try four thousand! Oh, and before you make any further comments on the bravery of the Sindar as a race, I would take the time to read that book you hold. And the next time that you feel the need to reflect on the nobility of the Noldor, reflect upon the Fëanorian oath and curse, and the tragic consequences. I say this as one who boasts both races in my lineage." 

He voice softened as she saw the distraught look on Melpomaen's face. He was watching as Legolas escorted Saelbeth indoors, comforting him with an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"So many times you have looked at him, Melpomaen, and yet you have rarely *seen* him. If you can cast aside that cynical nature which you have so fervently cultured, and open your mind, you would find a treasure beyond price in your - friendship - with Saelbeth."

She moved away, as if to gather her belongings, then turned to the dumbfounded scholar one last time.

"Oh, and Melpomaen - open your heart too, to free you to the truth. For within that tender organ you may find something that you have long denied, but which would bring you joy beyond reckoning - if you have the courage to face it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish :
> 
> periain - hobbits (pl)  
> mellon-nín - my friend  
> pen- neth - little one  
> meldir - friend


	3. Chapter 3

Melpomaen stared out of the library window across the gardens, and sighed. Winter had come, and the leaves had finally fallen - nay, had been blown off the branches of the trees by the blustery gales. Even Lord Elrond's magic could not hold back the procession of the seasons. Melpomaen shuddered, and drew the warm wool robe tight around his body, but it was not the chill of the air that made him shiver. No, it was the cold and lonely ache in his heart, which had been there since the incident in the garden with Saelbeth. The secretary had forgiven him immediately when he had apologised for his careless words, had smiled and laughed and had taken the blame on himself.

"How could you know, meldir, when I had not told you? Be at peace, Melpomaen. We are still friends. 'Buddies', yes?"

"Aye, 'pals'," he had replied and, so it seemed, that incident was over.

Melpomaen sighed again. If it was truly over, then why did his heart ache? Saelbeth had reverted to his old self - his friend, his companion, the audience to his jokes and quips. No, it was Melpomaen himself who had changed, who felt and acted in a different way. He slid around Saelbeth now, he crept, he mentally tiptoed in his presence, not wishing to unwittingly intrude upon the secretary's gentle sensibilities. For the hurt he had caused still made him flush with shame, and that shame had almost damaged their friendship. It had also produced a new feeling, an emotion that he could not define, save that it filled his soul and impinged on his heart. The feeling was new, and different.

And it scared him.

 

****

 

The Hall of Fire was deserted at this time of the morning save for a few servants cleaning the floor. Melpomaen and Saelbeth had moved their task here, for Erestor was giving instruction to a new intake of junior scribes and librarians. It was his place as the most senior scholar to guide them through the intricacies of cataloguing and recording, filing and sorting. After that, they would fall under the jurisdiction of these two elves.

"I feel sorry for them."

"Who?"

"The new batch – you know, the novices."

"Oh. Why?"

"Well, a whole morning with Erestor lecturing at you. Intimidating, and *very* boring."

Saelbeth grinned in understanding.

"I remember my first weeks well," continued Melpomaen, dusting the spine of the blue-bound ledger. "I scribbled note upon note, frantically hoping that I would be able to remember the prestigious amount of long-winded information Erestor was spewing out. *Then * I came to write up my notes into a more organised fashion, and found that they resembled the tracks of a drunken Mirkwood spider as it danced on eight stumbling legs across the page! They were useless!"

Saelbeth burst out laughing and Melpomaen chuckled too, glad to have made his dear friend happy.

Dear friend.

It was not the way he normally referred to Saelbeth, either verbally or in the quiet of his mind. He quite liked the terminology though. He looked at the secretary, hesitating before framing his next words.

"How did you feel, ‘Beth? On your first day?"

Saelbeth glanced up at him from his own stack of books and smiled gently. "A bit scared," he admitted. "I was quite young and Erestor was such a renowned elf – counsellor, librarian and warrior. Even though he was kind to me, he still projected an air of superior intellect that scared me stupid. But I soon got over that, and came to admire him openly, and with great love."

Melpomaen looked up sharply. "Love?"

"Love – but only a student's respect for his teacher, I swear!" Saelbeth said. "Elbereth, Glorfindel would have killed me if I attempted more! He and Erestor had but recently bound themselves, shortly before Celebrían's wedding to Elrond. Eru help any elf who imposes on either Erestor or Glorfindel, for the wrath of either would be enough to shake Arda apart!"

Melpomaen grinned in response to Saelbeth's anecdote, but inwardly wondered at his own response to Saelbeth's admission of admiration of the chief counsellor. His heart had lurched - suddenly, unexpectedly. He now felt panic, not knowing why he had reacted as he did. His self-control, his nonchalance and his bravado, all features of his overt personality, had been severely shaken in the last month. He was losing control and he didn't know the reason why.

Surreptitiously glancing at Saelbeth, who was now bent over the books once more, Melpomaen pondered on what he had learned in the past few weeks. He had taken Arwen's advice and had read the book that had been such a catalyst to his recent internal conflict. He now had an appreciation of the Wood-elves, and of the impact of the Sindar upon the history of Middle Earth. In many ways he found that he admired them for their true love of Arda and their strong links to nature. The Sindar had a passion and an energy that seemingly had been lost by the Noldor. The so-called 'refinement' of his race should instead be called ennui, a distancing of their souls from the real world in their weariness and longing for a return to the Undying Lands. Few Sindar had taken the Straight Road. They were bound to Middle Earth, and were yet attuned to the burgeoning life therein. In which case, Saelbeth was a contradiction. Whereas Prince Legolas exhibited the fiery, passionate nature of the Sindar, Saelbeth was of a much gentler kind, and not inclined to impulsive behaviour. It was his quiet actions and thoughts that had led Melpomaen to believe his friend a Noldo.

"So what have you chosen?"

What? Melpomaen blinked, then realised that his contemplations had made him miss his friend's question.

"I'm sorry 'Beth. What did you say?"

"Ai, I *must* be boring! I asked if you had chosen my forfeit for winning our bet at the Council? It is over a month since then, and you haven't yet demanded anything of me. So what will it be? A quill? A robe? Please do not make me clean your bathroom again, for *nothing* is worth that!"

Melpomaen shook his head. "Your forgiveness? For it is all I crave at the moment…"

Saelbeth looked alarmed. "Mel - do not tell me that you still dwell on *that*! No, no - that deed is long past and any forgiveness was given freely, without need to ask, long ago. My dar- dearest friend, do not waste your energy and brightness on such a small matter - or your win either!"

Melpomaen smiled weakly. "All right, if you say so. I just feel - oh, such a young and foolish elf…"

"Ai, that is one reason I never admitted my age to you! I still feel too young to be looked up to. I'm not an ancient elf like Glorfindel or Erestor, thank Eru!"

"If you really mean it…?"

"I do."

As he bent over his task again, Melpomaen suddenly remembered something. "Saelbeth, you called me 'Mel'! You *never* shorten my name!"

The secretary looked up, and Melpomaen was confused to see a pensive look in his green eyes. Saelbeth laughed, a brittle sound.

" No, I don't, do I? Um, weird." And they said no more on the subject.

 

****

 

Yuletide was near upon them, and the mammoth task was almost at an end. Melpomaen was both elated and disappointed. He had never before spent so much time working with Saelbeth, and in the end he had enjoyed it so much. Saelbeth had finally opened up about his past, talking about growing up in Lothlórien; about his parents, and his younger brother Affileg. However, the most surprising matter of all was Saelbeth's kinship to Prince Legolas. "My mother was cousin to Oropher's queen," the blond elf had said. "They were close when they all lived in Doriath, but when that kingdom was destroyed their paths diverged. I reclaimed my kinship only recently, on a diplomatic journey made some time ago to King Thranduil's court. The King was most kind, and Legolas and I met briefly."

On the subject of his admiration for Lord Celeborn, Saelbeth was most clear, praising the wisdom of the silver-haired elf. "Don't be fooled, Melpomaen. Lady Galadriel's powers may provide the magical protection about the Golden Wood, but it is Lord Celeborn's practicality that rules Lothlórien. The Galadhrim are at *his* command, and answer to his demands. He is a wise and cunning warrior, and truly is the heart, energy and soul of the realm. Though his love for the lady is deep and constant, his love for his land is deeper still. He is Sindar - passionate, protective, active. It is at the centre of our being. What we have, we hold - firmly."

Melpmaen dwelt long on these words, seeing those same emotions now within Saelbeth, but somehow they were muted. Something had happened to his friend to cause those fires to falter, to glow as embers instead of burning bright. He felt that it had something to do with Saelbeth's family. The Sinda had talked about them with great affection. His father had been a scribe and an advisor to Lord Celeborn, and his mother was a healer. He had also spoken with great love of the younger brother - but always in the past. When asked about them now, Saelbeth had simply said that they no longer resided in Middle Earth.

Melpomaen sighed again. The last fifty books lay on the table behind him but he had no interest in finishing the task, for he was alone. This morning Saelbeth had been asked to take a message to the human village down the valley and had not yet returned. He would probably be back soon, and Melpomaen had thought to finish the dusting as a surprise for him, but his mood had pulled his attention away from the tomes and to his memories.

He made a decision. If he could not work then he would walk, for surely the exercise would clear his mind and lighten his day. Without a backward glance at the untidy pile, he strode out of the room.

The wind was brisk and chill, and there was the smell of snow upon the air. As he walked along the garden paths he saw a great amount of activity, as the inhabitants of Imladris gathered the holly and the evergreens that would, with candles and bright ribbons, decorate the Hall of Fire for the imminent solstice. The elfing still within him grinned at memories of gingerbread and spiced cakes, and rich raisin puddings set aflame with brandy. Aye, and Mithrandir was still in Imladris, so hopefully that meant a display of his impressive fireworks. Certainly the hobbits had waxed lyrically about the exhibition that had lit the sky over the Shire for Bilbo's Birthday Party, all those years ago.

As he skirted the training grounds he heard voices from beyond the hedge, recognising them as the dwarf, Gimli and the human lord, Boromir.

"Nay, it is too long to be swung comfortably. It may look pretty, but I cannot get the balance of the thing."

"Aye, it is fine workmanship indeed. Perhaps you hold it wrong, Boromir. Perhaps you should hold it with two hands."

"You are right, Master Gimli," said a third voice, and Melpomaen started when he realised that it belonged to Saelbeth.

"Indeed?" said the dwarf. "Then it is good that you were passing, Master Elf. So how should it be held?"

The elf hesitated. "Well, I am supposed to attend Master Erestor, for I return from his errand but - oh, it will only take a moment."

There was a sound as if Saelbeth was placing a heavy burden on the ground, and Melpomaen hurriedly searched and found a break in the hedge where he might observe, yet remain unseen.

Saelbeth had lifted the long elven sword, obviously one borrowed from the armoury. He held it easily, with the air of one familiar with its use.

"You hold it like this, my lord," he was saying, "as if it were Master Gimli's axe. It is then swung in one fluid motion. The steel is sharp enough to cut right through an orc." Saelbeth swung the blade expertly, and continued through a series of moves that showed that he was an expert. Melpomaen was astounded. This was Saelbeth, his friend - and a scribe! Who was he really, that he could use a sword with such distinction?

"An elegant weapon then," said Boromir admiringly, then he chuckled and slapped the sword at his hip. "Yet I think somehow that I will lay my faith in a more familiar blade."

Saelbeth smiled and handed the elven sword back to Boromir. "I hope that I did not show myself as too rusty in my skills, for it has been three millennia since I last wielded a weapon in war."

"Aye, but you're not bad, laddie. Not bad at all. I hear Master Elrond has still to decide on those who should go with Gandalf and the hobbits. Perhaps you should volunteer."

Melpomaen's heart froze. He stood as if he were one of the many statues gracing the gardens, dreading to hear Saelbeth's reply. He wouldn't go, would he? He couldn't, he simply couldn't! The dark elf did not breathe; he so needed to, yet dreaded, hearing Saelbeth's answer.

"You overestimate my skills, Master Dwarf. Lord Elrond would not choose me, not when there are so many fearsome and active warriors at his command - Lord Glorfindel, for one. Yet if I were called upon then yes, I would answer, of course."

Melpomaen did not hear the rest of the conversation as Saelbeth made his farewells. His mind was a whirl, a churning mass of thoughts and emotions, and he stood still at the centre of the maelstrom. Saelbeth, to go? Saelbeth, to leave him? No, every fibre of his being shouted 'No'; every sentient cell cried against the possibility. He - he was - Ai, Saelbeth was his... his 'pal', his 'buddy'. Saelbeth couldn't go! Who would laugh at his jokes? No, he couldn't go, for then who would smile as he rolled out his continuous commentary on the happenings of Rivendell? Who would twinkle his merry green eyes at caustic asides and slyly witty comments? Who would help him finish the books?

Aye, that was it. Saelbeth could not go, for they had to finish the one thousand books. And with that slim hope, Melpomaen made his way back to the house and his work. And his mind did not allow his soul to scream out the true reason why he would not let the Sinda go, for as yet it would not allow his heart to admit it.

 

****

 

Saelbeth was worried. Very worried. It was now the eve of the solstice and the celebration of Yuletide, and he should be filled with the joy of the season but how could he be, when Melpomaen was acting so out of character? Indeed he could not fathom him at all. In the past week he had been in turn both captured by his friend *and* rejected in turn. It seemed that at one moment Melpomaen could hardly bear to let him out of his sight and then the next minute he pushed him away. It had happened again only minutes ago, when Saelbeth had suggested for the tenth time that day that they complete their task, and had tried to pick up a book from the small pile left to dust. Melpomaen had practically ripped it from his hands.

"It's Yuletide!" his dark friend had cried. "You can't work at Yuletide."

Which had been a fair enough point today, but he had said the same thing for the past week. Saelbeth was concerned, for these books had haunted their dreams and had plagued their waking hours. Why would his friend now wish to delay completing this onerous chore?

Melpomaen was now bustling around the shelves of the deserted library, taking out a book here, checking one there. Make-work, obviously. Saelbeth could stand it no more.

"Melpomaen, what *are* you doing?"

"Working," the dark elf replied, reaching for another book. Saelbeth's hand grasped the slim wrist, and the secretary was surprised at the sudden flinch by Melpomaen. He pulled the trembling librarian to face him, seeing his wide brown eyes blinking frantically, and he wondered at the shivering of the slim frame.

"Melpomaen, what in Arda is wrong? What has happened to make you so scared?" he beseeched the young elf. Melpomaen gulped, then took in a deep breath to calm himself.

"I want to claim my prize, Saelbeth. I want to know your story. I want to know how you learnt to wield the long sword, to swing it as an expert. Who are you, Saelbeth?"

Saelbeth looked deep into those soft brown eyes, seeing the fear of loss evident within them, and long-lost hope began to stir within his breast. Still holding the trembling hand, the secretary drew the elf over to a padded bench, indicating that they should sit.

"There is no need to claim your forfeit, Melpomaen," he said, gesturing the protesting librarian to silence. "Do not waste your boon, for this is something that I should have told you long ago. I take it that you overheard my conversation with the human and the dwarf?" A nod. "Then you will have heard that I last picked up a blade long ago - three thousand years, in fact."

"You fought at the Battle of Dagorlad," whispered Melpomaen, his eyes never leaving Saelbeth's face. "You stood in front of the Black Gates."

"Aye," Saelbeth nodded. "I, and my father and brother. We were all part of Lord Celeborn's army, all under the command of the High-King. We were there for the whole siege, the long dark years. Such darkness can weary the soul, Melpomaen, yet my brother was a bright soul. Bright and witty, much like yourself. He should not have been there.

"Affileg was a gentle child and he took after my father, a scholar at heart. It was assumed that he would take that path, for he seemed fated for it - yet he chose another fate. As for me, although I had an interest in books and lore, I was the more active child of the two of us, the more intense. When the time came to choose my path in life I immediately enrolled in the Galadhrim. They were my idols, my heroes, and I wanted to be one too. And in turn I was a hero to my brother, so when he came to make his own choice, he chose to follow me. I was delighted, for we were close and I longed to induct him into my company. Yet my parents mourned, for they knew the dangers of our vocation. Still, they would not stand in the way of our wishes, and they bade us to stand firm and proud, and to carry out our duties with honour.

"Then the call came to prepare for war. My father joined us, for an elf of Doriath, of Lindon and Evendim could not live through two ages without learning the skills of a warrior. We followed our lord to battle. We followed him to Mordor."

He paused, and Melpomaen could see the pain marring his face. Saelbeth realised that the younger elf ached for him, and he smiled to reassure the librarian.

"That last day, that fated day, we stood close to the army of Lindon, for many warriors had already fallen and we were sent to fill the gaps. We were near to Gil-galad when Sauron blasted him into a charred relic. So many of his personal guard were caught in the blast, and they died too. Instinctively we knew that we could not let Gil-galad, our bright and shining king, lie fallen and alone, could not leave his body open to desecration by the foul enemy. We formed a circle around him. Noldor, Silvan, Sindar. Affileg stood beside me, and we all fought and killed any of the beasts that tried to penetrate our circle. When the Ring was cut from that dread hand, the fighting ceased and the cost was counted. There were only two of the circle left standing - and my brother was not one of them.

"They never blamed me, my parents. On our return to Lothlórien my father and I gathered my mother into our arms and wept for him. They left soon afterwards for the Grey Havens, and Valinor. I could have gone too but I decided to remain, for I was still young and had a strong bond to Middle Earth. Yet I had heart no longer for war, and so I took up a scholarly life, somewhat in remembrance of my brother. Do not feel that I have been burdened by guilt these centuries past. I knew even then that many sacrifices had to be made by the Eldar in the fight against the Dark Enemy. My brother and I were trained warriors, and we answered that call by open and free choice. We were warriors, and it was our duty, and we knew the risks.

"When the Lady Celebrían journeyed to Imladris and her new husband, Lord Celeborn asked me to travel with her. He knew how empty the Golden Wood seemed to me without my parents or brother. I settled here in Imladris very quickly, and have had a happy and fulfilling life."

He squeezed the librarian's hand gently. "And you, my dearest friend, your friendship has meant more to me than you could ever know. You have brightened my life so much since your arrival in Imladris fifteen hundred years ago. I treasure your companionship, your wit and your lightness of heart. From the moment I first saw you, you have been the brightest star in my sky."

Melpomaen's heart pounded so loudly and violently that he wondered that it had not yet burst right out of his chest. Seeing those green eyes shining so brightly with love and hope, he now recognised the emotion that had taken hold of him in the past two months. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been so blind? In his desperate anguish at the thought of losing this gentle, beautiful elf, he blurted out his deepest fear.

"Do not go! Do not go, do not leave me!"

Saelbeth was bewildered. "Go? Go where? What do you fear, Melpomaen?"

Melpomaen gulped, fighting back tears. The worry of the past week now filled his chest, and he could barely articulate his words.

"With the Fellowship. I heard you! You said that if you were called that you would answer. Please, do not go…"

Saelbeth stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Had you not heard, pen-neth? The Fellowship has been chosen. The two younger hobbits go too, with Estel and Boromir for Men, and Gimli and Legolas for the Free Peoples. I was never in any danger of being asked to go, my dearest Melpomaen."

The words were softly spoken but each syllable rang as clearly as a bell in Melpomaen's ears. With a joyous cry he flung himself into Saelbeth's arms, his sobs of relief muffled against the blond elf's breast. Saelbeth wrapped his arms firmly around the weeping elf, and he murmured soothing words against the soft strands of hair.

"I will not leave you, my precious Mel. I will stay here with you for as long as you want."

'Forever,' thought Melpomaen. 'I want you forever.' He licked his lips, for they were dry with nervousness. He looked up again and his brown eyes glowed with want.

"Twice you have refused me, Saelbeth," he said softly. "Twice you have disallowed my claim, refused to give me my prize. No more. I demand it of you. I want a kiss, Saelbeth. That is my prize. I want you to kiss me."

Now it was Saelbeth who trembled, his mouth agape with wonder.

"Truly, Melpomaen? You are sure?" The plea in his voice was evident, the want and need obvious.

"I mean it, dimwit!" laughed Melpomaen, his happiness shining through his tears. "Just kiss me, 'Beth."

The Sinda did not hesitate. His grip tightened on the Noldo as his lips pressed firmly upon Melpomaen's. The dark elf opened his lips eagerly, allowing entry to the demanding, questing tongue. A thrill ran through him, little shivers of delight as he melded against the lithe body. Saelbeth loved him! All these years and he had never seen the yearning in those green eyes. 'Ai, who is the dimwit now?' he thought as he gave himself up to the glorious sensation of pure love and desire.

Saelbeth's mouth had roamed, pressing against the soft skin of his cheek, his neck; moving to lick the curve of his ear. Melpomaen shuddered, the arousing darts of passion flaring through his body and his member responded readily. He pushed his hips forward, grinding against the wood-elf, grinning with satisfaction as Saelbeth groaned his approval.

"Ai, Mel, my sweet one! We - we should not - continue this kiss, not here…"

Melpomaen knew that this was true, but the mischievous imp within him prompted him to tease his darling further.

"Why not, 'Beth? What do you want from me? What do need from me that you cannot take here, right here on the library floor? Ai, it is a little dusty, I grant you…"

"You, meleth, you! Ah Mel, please…" the secretary groaned, leaning in to claim his lips once more. Melpomaen clasped his hands to the sides of Saelbeth's face, capturing him to deepen the kiss, devouring him before releasing his honeyed mouth. He looked up wonderingly into Saelbeth's eyes.

"I was so blind, wasn't I? All these years and I never realised that I loved you, and that you loved me too."

Saelbeth smiled gently, though the need was still pouring from him. "We know now, I have you now."

Melpomaen nodded. "I asked for the wrong thing. I did not use my wish wisely. I should have asked you to take me; to take me to your bed and love me in every way."

The green eyes darkened further in desire. "Then let us go now, for I will grant you this wish and any other that you may ask of me, with a willing heart and body." He made as if to scoop his dearest one into his arms, but Melpomaen pulled back.

"Race you to your rooms!" he grinned in mischief, and without warning dashed from the library. Saelbeth gaped, then followed, giving all to the chase.

The corridors of the Last Homely House were busy but that did not matter to the two excited elves as they danced their way through the astonished onlookers. They finally reached Saelbeth's rooms, tumbling through the door with hysterical laughter. Saelbeth kicked the door closed as he tore at his tunic, and his green eyes sparkled with delight and desire as Melpomaen similarly cast his clothes from him.

The dark-haired Noldo suddenly paused when his thumbs hooked into the side of his leggings, ready to draw them down. There was a speculative look in his eye and his lips formed a sly smile, then he slowly undulated his hips, wriggling the pants lower as he turned in an enticing circle. Saelbeth groaned as his new love threw back his long brown hair, letting it fly seductively about his naked shoulders. The exhibition was too much to bear and Saelbeth leapt forward, grabbing Melpomaen around the waist and flinging them both onto the waiting bed. Melpomaen giggled as they bounced on the soft mattress, then gasped as the Sinda ravaged his mouth.

Hands roamed and hips were raised, allowing for removal of the unwanted leggings. Soon both were nude upon the covers, the blonde and brown strands mingled in their frenzied delight.

"Ai, I need you so, meleth," murmured Saelbeth against a taut nipple, his warm breath causing little cries to emanate from the dark elf.

"Then take me," Melpomaen breathed. "I am no virgin, Saelbeth. I have had lovers before."

Saelbeth growled. "I know, but forget them, for you are *mine* now."

"Always."

"Forever."

And Saelbeth lowered his head and claimed the thick velvet shaft in one sudden swallow.

"Aiiii!!"

Saelbeth's mouth was relentless, moving steadily around the swollen member, revelling in its smooth surface, tasting the weeping slit - licking, sucking, making Melpomaen scream.

"Meleth, I need you, I need you now! 'Bonk me brainless', Saelbeth!"

The blonde-haired elf gasped, spluttered then choked on the engorged penis. He released it and looked up at the panting librarian.

"What the -!"

Melpomaen looked down the length of his body, which shone with perspiration. His brown eyes were twinkling with desire and mirth.

" 'Tis an expression I found -"

" - in a human book. Ai, melethron, how do you expect me to make mad, passionate love to you if you make me laugh the whole time, you idiot!"

The words were growled as if in frustration, but the secretary's shoulders shook with repressed laughter, laughter which was reflected in the smiling curve of his lips. Melpomaen chuckled again, his mouth twitching.

" 'Fuck me through the mattress', Saelbeth."

Saelbeth's eyes rolled in mock despair, then he bent down and playfully nipped the soft stomach. "Stop it, you fool, and hand me that vial of hair oil!"

Melpomaen stretched out his hand to grasp at the bottle on the bedside table, lifting it as if to examine the label.

" 'Promotes hair growth'," he quoted from non-existent instructions. "Ai, I don't want hair growing from *there* -!"

He squealed with laughter, twisting frantically away from tickling fingers as Saelbeth played them in revenge for Melpomaen's quips. A hand came over Melpomaen's mouth, blocking his protests.

"Now, my lovely jester. No more. Not another word until you scream out my name in your ecstasy."

The voice was husky, the intent clear. Melpomaen hissed as he felt the oiled finger probing at his puckered opening, and he widened his legs to allow his love to settle between them. Saelbeth's mouth teased its way down Melpomaen's body again, tasting the sweet saltiness of the young Noldo's soft flesh. Melpomaen was squirming under the avid attention, but he had taken Saelbeth's warning to heart and only the softest of gasps and moans escaped his lips. This resolve was tested severely when Saelbeth drew his tongue along the underside of the swollen shaft, curling it to lick firmly around the moist tip. Engulfing the head, he drew it into his mouth to stimulate every nerve ending; pulsing, sucking, tenderly laving every portion. Up. Down. His fingers mimicked the movement of his mouth, pressing in, twisting, pulling out. Stroking that sweet nub that was sending Melpomaen into convulsions of delight with each touch. Yet his dark one held to his silent promise. Saelbeth released the throbbing shaft and looked up into Melpomaen's eyes. They were full of a desperate pleading for fulfilment. And he would answer this call.

Stroking a generous amount of oil onto his own member, Saelbeth folded his love's slim legs up to his chest, and lifted the slender hips. Melpomaen's eyes filled his vision, the brown turned black with desire and trust. Saelbeth leaned forward and entered that velvet heat, so hot and tight that he almost came in that instant. Breathing heavily, controlling his body, the blond elf started to thrust gently, leaning into the tight grip of Melpomaen's hands upon his shoulders. He had waited for centuries, he had longed for this moment for a millennia and a half, and he was determined to savour every second.

The moment lasted a lifetime, but it still felt too short. The slow thrusts gained speed, encouraged by Melpomaen's upward movements as he claimed more, demanded everything. Saelbeth could feel his groin tightening and could do nothing to stop the rush of heat through him. Throwing back his head, sending his pale tresses flying in abandon down his back, his throat released a triumphant cry as his climax overtook him. Beneath Saelbeth, his love cried out too, for that last plunge of the thick shaft had triggered his love's own completion and stars exploded behind Melpomaen's eyelids. He felt the hot seed spurt deep within him as his own splattered across his belly.

"Saelbeth!"

The slow descent from the thrilling heights was a time of gentle murmurs and soft strokes. Firm arms pulled the sated Noldo into a possessive embrace.

"Mel," the gentle voice whispered. "My Mel. My meleth. Melethron. My Mel."

Melpomaen curved his lips into a gentle smile, pressing them against the soft chest.

"That is why, isn't it?" he murmured. "That is why you never shortened my name. It would have been too easy to change it into those words of love." He felt Saelbeth nod in agreement.

"Too tempting, my love. I wanted you, I loved you from the first moment that I saw you – but I did not want to scare you away. Not with my love, not with my age, nor my previous life as a warrior. I did not want you to know me only as an ancient elf. I would rather have been close to you as your friend than lose you to my loose tongue."

Melpomaen snuggled closer. "Dimwit," he snorted.

"I know."

"Oh, not you – me! I was so blind, not to have realised how much I cared for you."

"But you have, finally. I love you too, Mel."

Melpomaen lifted himself onto one elbow and gazed into those beautiful green eyes. His face was solemn. "I love you, Saelbeth. I know that I act the fool, and joke and play, but I can be serious. I have never been more so in my life than I am at this moment. I love you."

Saelbeth stroked his dark love's cheek, pushing back the dark brown strands of hair from that beloved face. "I know, Mel, but I beg you, do not change. For it was the joyous elf within that I fell in love with, and your merry, cheeky grin."

Melpomaen flashed that infamous grin, then collapsed with an exaggerated sigh onto Saelbeth's chest.

"Oh, thank the gods. Going all serious was about to kill me!"

Saelbeth chuckled, hugging his elf once more.

"Aye, and as for jokes – Mel, where on Arda did you get those ridiculous phrases? I nearly died myself when you quoted them at me. I didn't know whether to continue to make love, or strangle you!"

Melpomaen started laughing again. "I told you, I got them from a -"

"- human book. Aye, I know, but where did you find it? I cannot believe that you saw it lying on one of your shelves in passing."

Melpomaen grinned. "No, it was Erestor who led me to it." He laughed again as he saw the green eyes widen. "You know the tapestry in the north corner of the library? The one of Doriath? Well, that pulls aside to reveal a door to which only Lord Elrond and Erestor have the key. One quiet evening I saw Erestor and Glorfindel slip in there, trying not to be seen. After about thirty minutes they came out looking rather flushed, and they ran from the library in some great haste. *And* they forgot to lock the door. So I crept in to find, ai, a veritable treasure trove!"

"Not the room of erotic lore? I had heard of this legendary secret chamber, but I did not know that it was real!"

"I dared not stay long, and only twice more have I been able to gain entry." He blushed, looking embarrassed. "I did not tell you because, well, then I did not know that I harboured any feelings towards you other than friendship. Ai, ‘Beth, the illustrations are – beyond speech or imagination!"

Saelbeth smirked, and rolled the dark elf on top of him.

"Can you remember any of them?"

Melpomaen's eyes darkened.

"Oh, yeeesssss!"

"Care to demonstrate?"

And so he did.

 

****

 

Yuletide was a longed-for event, and too tempting even for two elves in the throes of new-found love to miss. They coloured a little at the knowing looks and approving smiles as they arrived at the festivities, but were too happy to be discomforted. Melpomaen pulled Saelbeth forward into the welcoming greetings of the other elves, refusing to let the retiring elf retreat.

"I'm an exhibitionist," he claimed. "To exhibit means to show off, so I am showing you off!"

And he did. Lord Elrond met them with wide arms and a delighted smile, and Erestor and Glorfindel went so far as to embrace the two lovers.

"May you be as happy as Glorfindel and I," the counsellor said softly, and this quiet blessing meant much to Saelbeth. He also glowed at the congratulations of his cousin and the enthusiastic slaps on the back that they both received from the hobbits. Though as Melpomaen said later, they were ‘less slaps on the back and more whacks on the rump, due to the lack of height of our dear periain!'

Mithrandir did not offer much more than a wide smile, which surprised them for he had a propensity to expound on such subjects. However, later that night they received a wonderful accolade when a fabulous display of his fireworks concluded with a sparkling red heart, glittering in the Rivendell sky.

 

****

 

The Fellowship departed a week later, in the grey darkness of the pre-dawn hours. Despite the early hour the courtyard was full as Lord Elrond extended his blessing. Melpomaen secreted his hand within his lover's, giving it a slight squeeze in support of the prayers he knew Saelbeth would be saying for the safety of his cousin.

The elves began to turn back into the house and the courtyard quickly emptied. Melpomaen tugged at Saelbeth's hand.

"Come, my love. It is two more hours before we must start our duties, and our bed calls to me once more."

Saelbeth did not move but instead drew Melpomaen into his arms.

"There is no rush, meleth-nín, for either of us, for I asked and Erestor granted me a boon. As a betrothal gift, he has given us a day free from work. Not only that," he withdrew an object from his pocket, "he has loaned us his key. We have permission to take one book each with us to our chambers for the remainder of the day."

Melpomaen's brown eyes bulged at the sight of the key, and then his hand snatched it from Saelbeth's grip.

"First one to the library gets to choose the first book!" he cried, setting a good pace. Saelbeth grinned, then sprinted after him.

Across the courtyard, in a sheltered alcove, Erestor leant back into the broad arms of his bonded love, a sweet curve upon his lips. A soft voice purred in his ear.

"You are very satisfied with yourself, melethron. Your plan worked well. You are truly a consummate matchmaker."

Erestor looked up into the sapphire eyes and smiled.

"There was no match to be made, for their hearts already knew, but their minds did not care to admit their love. I but gave them a way to come together, and recognise that passion."

"Yet I am astounded by your diligence. Where *did* you find all those books?"

Erestor chuckled. "They were actually volumes that I had weeded from the archives through many years, and which had lain untouched in a store room for centuries. They were either inaccurate, incomplete or useless, or duplicates of those already on the shelves."

"And now they are back upon those shelves once more."

"Aye, but it is worth it, to finally see those two elves so happy."

"As happy as we are."

Erestor turned in his husband's arms. "Hardly! But almost…" he said placing his arms around Glorfindel's neck.

"So, who have you set your sights on next?"

Erestor pulled the golden head down and whispered in his love's ear. Glorfindel at first spluttered, then burst into loud laughter.

"Aye, they would be good together, but how will you achieve that?"

"Well, that is where you come in…"

Even as the two elves slowly made their way back into the Last Homely House, they were both aware that this had been no simple matchmaking. It was a symbol of love triumphant and hope fulfilled, a symbol for a long and happy future. Aye, just as much as a small hobbit leading a fellowship of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth would be *their* symbol of hope of a brighter future, and a world without shadows – for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish:
> 
> Meldir - friend  
> pen-neth - little one  
> meleth - love  
> melethron - beloved (male)  
> meleth-nín – my love

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish:
> 
> Úlairi - Ringwraiths  
> periain - hobbits  
> meleth-nín - my love  
> gwanneth - younger twin  
> gwaniaur - older twin  
> meldir - friend  
> mellon-nín - my friend


End file.
